A DCI Anna Tate Crime Thriller

She had no idea where she was going. She needed someone to tell her, someone to grasp her by the hand and assure her that everything was going to be all right before leading her to a place of safety.

She needed her mum.

The flashing blue lights of a police car appeared as if out of nowhere, stopping Chloe dead in her tracks.

The vehicle screeched to a halt in the middle of the road junction that was just up ahead. The sight of it lifted her spirits, but only for a fraction of a second because that was how long it took for the rioters to turn their attention to it.

The police car was bombarded with missiles, including bottles that smashed against the shiny bodywork. It started to back up but collided with a van that had stopped behind it.

As the rioters rushed forward, two police officers leapt out of the car and sprinted towards what looked like a small park beyond the shops.

Chloe decided that her best option was to follow them, but as she stepped off the kerb into the road she failed to check if it was safe to do so.

It wasn’t.

A motorcyclist tore past at that very moment and she heard him scream at her to get out of the way. At the same time there was a loud squeal of tyres on the tarmac as the rider swerved dramatically in a bid to avoid hitting her. But Chloe didn’t react quickly enough.

The nearside saddlebag struck the side of her body and the impact sent her flying back onto the pavement.

Her head struck the concrete first and an explosion of pain pulsed through her entire body.

It was the last thing she was aware of before a huge black hole opened up and she was sucked into it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On a normal day the eight-mile journey from Camberwell to Bromley would have been fairly straightforward, even in rush hour. But this day was anything but normal and the riots were causing traffic chaos.

Diversions were in place, main roads blocked, and warnings were being issued over the radio to avoid certain areas.

Anna and Benning got stuck in a jam on Denmark Hill within minutes of leaving the crime scene.

‘This shit has been brewing for ages,’ Benning said. ‘We should have been prepared for it. There were enough bloody warning signs. The gangs, the stabbings, the growing contempt for the law among young people. But no. The powers-that-be thought it would be a good idea to cut police numbers and take a softy softly approach to criminals. Utter madness.’

They were the first words he’d spoken to her since getting into the car, having been on the phone to his superior officer. Anna couldn’t help but agree with him. It was hard to believe that the capital, and indeed the whole country, had been so ill-prepared for public unrest on this scale, given what had been happening in other parts of Europe, including France with the costly Yellow Vest protests.

‘It’s already obvious that these riots are much worse than those of 2011,’ he said. ‘And they’re still gathering momentum. Last night they were more widespread and violent than the night before, and I guarantee that tonight will be even worse.’

Anna’s thoughts turned to Chloe and she wondered how she and Tom were getting on. Her daughter had never been to Tom’s flat so the whole experience of being taken there for her own safety must surely have unsettled her.

But Anna was confident that Chloe was being well looked after, and she was so grateful to her boyfriend for seizing control of the situation. Not having to worry about Chloe meant she could concentrate on the job in hand. A job that was going to be difficult, demanding and emotionally challenging.

‘We can’t allow the riots to sidetrack us, DI Benning,’ Anna said. ‘We have to focus on the case. So I’d like you to start telling me what you’ve unearthed during your missing person’s investigation.’

Anna took her eyes off the road for a second to look at him. Sweat beaded his top lip and she could tell that the guilt would be eating away at his insides. He’d had four days and nights to find Jacob Rossi and he’d failed, even though the boy had been alive the whole time. That was a lot for any detective to handle.

‘You can’t blame yourself for what’s happened,’ she told him. ‘You did your best. But as we now know this is an unusual case. Not a run-of-the-mill abduction. There’s something more than a little strange about it.’

He nodded. ‘That’s what the skipper just said. But it doesn’t make me feel any better. And the rest of the team are going to be just as devastated when they find out.’

‘How many officers have you had working on it?’

‘Well on Monday night and Tuesday there were twenty of us, including uniforms and the liaison officer assigned to the family. But then it fell back to five on Wednesday because of the riots. It’s been a struggle since then.’

Anna felt a chill flush through her body. It was awful to think that the rioting that had resulted in Jacob Rossi’s death had also had such a serious impact on the investigation into his abduction.

‘So start from the beginning,’ Anna said. ‘I was on leave until a couple of hours ago so all I know about the case is what I saw on the news. And that includes the appeal made by Jacob’s father.’

‘OK,’ Benning said, and Anna felt his eyes on her. ‘But let me say at the outset that I’m aware of your own personal story, ma’am, as is everyone else in the Met. So I know that you can appreciate more than most what the boy’s parents have been going through, and that will be a great help.’

Anna bit down on the inside of her cheek and felt her stomach tighten.

‘That’s true up to a point,’ she said. ‘But I was lucky in that I eventually got my daughter back. The Rossis will never see their son again.’

Benning explained that Mark Rossi made the 999 call to report his son missing at six p.m. on Monday. It was passed on to Bromley CID and prompted an immediate response.

‘I was the only one in the office at the time so the case fell to me,’ Benning said. ‘I believe the boy was abducted shortly after he left his school – the local private prep school – to walk home at about three-thirty. At three-fifty his mobile phone stopped transmitting a signal. There was a delay in raising the alarm because both his parents were out when he was due to arrive home, and they only realised something was wrong when they discovered he wasn’t there and that his phone was switched off. They spoke to the school and several of his friends and there was nothing to suggest he hadn’t headed straight home.’

‘Did he usually walk home alone?’ Anna asked.

Benning nodded. ‘Since he turned ten a few months ago. His parents are now cursing themselves for letting him.’

Anna was well aware that there was no legal age for when a child could walk to and from school alone. In fact she’d read somewhere that ten was the average age at which most British parents felt it safe for their offspring to do so.

‘And how often did the boy let himself into the house?’ she said.

‘A couple of times a week apparently. His dad works all kinds of hours on his programmes and his mum is a solicitor who’s based in the town centre. The school is only half a mile from their house so it didn’t take Jacob long to walk there and back, but only during daylight. He wasn’t allowed to do it in the dark – then, he would either be picked up by one of his parents or get a lift from a friend’s mum or dad. Unfortunately the route he usually took includes a short stretch with fields on one side and woods on the other. And the whole area is a bit of a CCTV black spot, so vehicles can pass through it without being picked up at either end. Consequently, we had no joy with vehicle identification.’

‘So the abductor was probably aware of the situation with cameras.’

‘That’s the assumption. It comes back to the whole thing being carefully planned from the snatch to the choice of the pub cellar as a sort of holding cell. We’re looking for someone who put a great deal of thought into this.’

‘And you’ve found nothing to suggest what the motive could be?’

He shrugged. ‘There are the obvious conclusions to draw. He was the victim of a sexual predator or a psycho who wanted to kill him. Or it was someone who intended to ask for a ransom from his well-off family. But so far there’s been no contact or demand.’

‘It could also be someone who has a serious grudge against the parents and wants them to suffer.’

‘That occurred to me too. Mark Rossi might well be a popular TV entertainer with the viewing public, but the nature of his job as an entertainer means that there are plenty of people out there who aren’t so fond of him. He’s the target of a fair amount of online abuse. Plus, he’s made a few enemies of people who used to work with him at a production company that went bust.’

‘That sounds interesting.’

‘It was run by his stepfather, Isaac Rossi, and employed twelve permanent staff. Most of them have struggled to find work since while Mark Rossi’s career has continued to blossom.’

‘Have you talked to them?’

‘Only one of them. He’s a former producer named Gavin Pope, who lives in Richmond. He recently confronted Rossi in front of everyone at a TV industry event and accused him of not doing enough to help his former colleagues.’

‘Is he in the frame?’

Benning shrugged. ‘He claims he knows nothing about the abduction but doesn’t have a cast-iron alibi. He says he spent all Monday afternoon at home by himself and was joined in the evening by his wife.’

‘Is he the only suspect?’

‘There’s one other,’ Benning said. ‘A bloke named Neville Quinlan who was seen hanging around outside the school three days before the abduction. He’s on the sex offenders’ register having abused two boys some years ago. He lives a few streets away from the school but he claims he was out walking on Monday afternoon and didn’t go past the school. He reckons he can’t recall which route he took, which sounds dodgy to say the least.’

‘We’ll need to interview both of them again,’ Anna said.

‘That goes without saying.’

Anna sucked on her lower lip in concentration for a few beats, her mind racing with questions. ‘Well it’s clear we have two strands to this investigation and two perpetrators. The first is the kidnapping and whoever carried it out. The second is the fire and whoever started it.’

She paused there to listen to a newsflash on the radio. There were two breaking stories relating to the riots.

A security guard had been stabbed while confronting a gang of youths who were looting a store in Brixton. And three children under ten were in hospital with serious burns after flames tore through a parade of shops in Lewisham, trapping families in the flats above.

‘It’s not even seven o’clock yet,’ Anna said. ‘I hate to think what the death and injury toll will be before this night is over.’

The thought made her catch her breath and it continued to play on her mind as they headed towards Bromley to deliver the news that no parent should ever have to hear to Mr and Mrs Rossi.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

In her dream, Chloe was reliving one of the saddest occasions of her young life – the funeral two weeks ago of her adoptive mother, Sophie Cameron.

It had been the first time Chloe had gone inside a crematorium and it all proved too much for her. Half way through the short service she became so tearful that Anna had to take her outside.

It was her own fault for insisting on going despite the advice of the child counsellor who had told her it would be best if she stayed away.

But she’d had to go because she’d needed to say goodbye to the woman who had nurtured her from the age of two.

The woman who had changed her nappies and potty-trained her.

The woman who had picked her up at the end of her first day at school.

The woman who had taught her how to read.

The woman who had made the ultimate sacrifice in order to save her life by jumping from the roof of that warehouse.

In the crematorium garden Anna held her in her arms and tried to console her. It felt strange but comforting.

Eventually she stopped crying and when the service was over the only other two people who had attended joined them – Sophie’s closest friend Lisa, and Jane, the sister Sophie hadn’t seen in years.

They both spoke fondly of Sophie and said how much she had loved Chloe. And they both made a point of saying that Chloe should be thankful that her birth mother, Anna, had never given up searching for her.

There were more tears when Sophie’s ashes were scattered over one of the flower beds in the garden. And Chloe was awestruck when the clouds above parted suddenly and a shaft of sunlight spread warmth over her adoptive mother’s remains.

*

A noise wrenched her back to consciousness. One moment she was surrounded by the serenity of the crematorium garden, the next her senses were being pummelled by a harsh mix of thunderous sounds.

When she opened her eyes, she was staring up at a face she didn’t recognise. It belonged to a young black woman wearing a hooded parka and a thick woollen scarf around her neck.

The woman was leaning over her, and when she saw that Chloe was awake, she smiled and turned her head towards someone who was standing to one side of her.

‘Christ almighty, I thought she was dead,’ the woman shouted. ‘But she’s alive.’

‘Well now you know she’s all right we should get going,’ replied a male voice.

‘But we can’t leave her here. She’s just a kid.’

‘Makes no difference. She’s not our problem. We need to stick with the others. If we don’t, we’ll end up like her or get ourselves arrested.’

The woman turned back to Chloe and said, ‘Where are your parents, love?’

Chloe opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat and she started to sob instead.

The woman stroked her cheek with a gloved hand and leaned closer to make herself heard above the racket around them.

‘I would call for an ambulance but it’d be a waste of time because it won’t turn up,’ she said. ‘I can phone your mum and dad for you, though. Have you got their number?’

Chloe shook her head, but it was so painful it made her cry out.

‘You’ve got a nasty bump on your forehead,’ the woman told her. ‘I saw what happened with the motorbike so I reckon you’re lucky you weren’t more seriously hurt. The bastard rode off without stopping.’

Chloe took a deep breath and managed to find her voice, which was weak and barely discernible even to her own ears.

‘How long have I been …’

‘Only about a minute. We were close by when it happened. I came straight over.’

‘I’m lost and I don’t know where my mum is,’ Chloe said.

‘You poor thing. What’s your name?’

‘Alice.’

‘Well mine is—’

Before she could finish the sentence the man who was with the woman suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly to her feet.

‘Stop pissing about, babe,’ he snapped. ‘You either come with me now or I’m leaving you here.’

The woman looked down at Chloe with a pitying expression on her face, and said, ‘You’ll be OK. Just get to your feet and move away from this street to a safer place. Then find someone who can help you. I would if I could, but I have to go. I’m really sorry. Good luck, Alice. And take care of yourself.’

The woman disappeared, leaving Chloe lying on the pavement, her lungs clutching for air, her head spinning.

She made herself ignore the pain in her head and struggled to get up. As she did so her muscles burned with the effort and tears streamed down her cheeks.

As soon as she was on her feet, she felt giddy and sick, and her eyes drifted in and out of focus. But once she regained her equilibrium, she was able to start to take in what was going on around her.

And it was enough to cause the fear to swell up inside her like a big inflated balloon.

There seemed to be even more angry people on the street, and many of them were standing around the abandoned police car that was now on fire. Others were smashing their way into shops to steal things and anyone who tried to stop them was being threatened or attacked.

Chloe felt invisible because nobody was paying her any attention. They were all too busy running riot to even notice her. Or if they did see her, they didn’t care that she was so obviously in desperate need of help.

It meant she would have to look after herself, first by getting away from the violence and then by trying to contact her mum.

As she started walking again, she realised that lights were coming on because it was getting dark. It made her heart pound even faster and ignited a fire in her belly. She was sure now that she was going to die out here. What was happening was more scary than any story she had ever heard and any film she had ever seen. And it was just as frightening as that day when she left the flat and Bruno Perez grabbed her and pulled her into his van.

She passed a man who was smashing the windows of a bus shelter. Then two other men who were openly brandishing long, lethal-looking knives.

Further on she came across a homeless man lying in a doorway, his face and blanket splattered with blood.

Then a woman rushed past her pushing a shopping trolley with a large TV in it.

Chloe did not see any more police – it was as though the area had been left to the mercy of the rioters. She’d seen the violence on the television over the past couple of days, but it hadn’t seemed so bad then. She’d been detached from it. Watching from a distance. Secure in the knowledge that it was happening to other people and not to her. But now she was caught up in it and she was petrified beyond belief.

She came to a corner where looters were ransacking a convenience store. Through the broken windows she saw young men and women feverishly clearing the shelves.

The street to the right looked to be deserted, but it led nowhere. There was a large open car park on one side of the road and several low, windowless buildings on the other. They looked similar to the factories that were situated close to the flat she used to share with Sophie in Shoreditch. At the far end of the street was a high wall in front of a partially demolished building.

Chloe turned into the street without hesitation and headed for the car park, which was empty and had very little lighting. She thought it would be a fairly safe place to hide while she worked out what to do next.

But before entering the car park, she glanced back over her shoulder – and was just in time to spot something that caused her heart to lurch in her chest. Two men wearing hooded jackets were now standing on the pavement outside the convenience store on the corner.

As Chloe watched, one of them lifted a finger and pointed directly at her. She saw his lips move, but wasn’t close enough to make out what he was saying. But her stomach flipped when she saw his companion break out in a slow, leering grin.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It turned out to be a relatively uneventful journey to Bromley for Anna and DI Benning. They drove south through Dulwich, Forest Hill and Beckenham. Thankfully the riots hadn’t yet spread to those areas. But traffic remained heavy and it took them close on an hour to get there.

Benning had phoned ahead to let the family liaison officer know that they were coming. He told her only that they had an update, not that Jacob’s body had been found.

Mark and Clare Rossi lived in a large detached house close to a park. They’d moved in only ten months ago, which was when Jacob had been enrolled in the private prep school nearby.

Anna felt weighed down by dread as she drew the car to a halt on the driveway. No matter how many times she delivered news of a loved one’s death, it never got any easier.

The FLO answered the door to them. She was a tall, thin woman and she introduced herself to Anna as Phillipa Moore.

‘Jacob’s parents are waiting for you in the living room,’ she said. ‘You should know that they’re fearing the worst because I haven’t been able to tell them what you’ve got to say.’

‘Well it’s not good news, I’m afraid,’ Anna said.

Moore nodded. ‘That’s what I thought.’

On the inside the house was modern and spacious, with light-coloured walls and carpets. One of the first things to catch Anna’s eye was a framed photo of Jacob on a table in the hallway. He was wearing a football kit and giving a thumbs-up to the camera.

His parents were sitting next to each other on a long white sofa in the living room. They were facing a wall-mounted TV that had been muted while tuned to a news programme showing footage of the riots. Another white sofa was positioned at an angle to it and behind that patio doors provided access to the rear garden.

Mark Rossi stood up as Anna and Benning entered the room. He was wearing an open-necked shirt and jeans, and his face was pale and unshaven. He seemed a shadow of the man she had seen so many times on the television. Anna knew he was in his mid-forties but he looked much older here in front of her, which was understandable in the circumstances.

He switched his gaze between the two detectives and panic flashed across his features.

‘So what’s happened?’ he said, anxiety rattling in his voice. ‘Have you got news about Jacob?’

‘Can I suggest that you sit back down, Mr Rossi, and I’ll explain everything?’ Anna said. ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Tate and I’m now leading this investigation.’

Rossi opened his mouth to reply but his wife beat him to it.

‘Does it mean you’ve found our boy?’ she said, her voice wavering with emotion. ‘Is that it?’

Mrs Rossi spoke while remaining seated, her back ramrod stiff, her hands tightly balled together in her lap.

She was a slight woman about the same age as her husband, with short curly blonde hair and a narrow face. Her eyes were glassy with shock and exhaustion, and Anna wondered how much sleep, if any, she’d had since Monday night.

After an awkward pause, Anna cleared her throat and bit down on her bottom lip. There was no easy way to say what she needed to say so she decided just to come right out with it.

‘I’m really sorry to have to tell you both that your son is no longer alive. His body was found a few hours ago. We got here as quickly as we could to inform you.’

Clare let out a shrill cry of anguish and dropped her face into her hands. Her husband screwed up his face and said, ‘Are you sure it’s him? Please tell me it could be a mistake.’

Anna shook her head. ‘You’ll be asked to make a formal identification, Mr Rossi, but I can assure you that it isn’t a mistake. If there was any doubt I would tell you. The boy who’s been found is definitely your son. A blazer with his name in it was near to his body.’

Rossi started crying then, great wet sobs racking his body. He dropped back onto the sofa and put an arm around his wife.

Their suffering was palpable, and Anna knew it would intensify after she told them how and where Jacob had died.

The FLO hurriedly left the room, saying she was going to put the kettle on, and Anna was certain she saw tears in the woman’s eyes.

It didn’t surprise her, though, because she felt like crying herself, and if she’d been alone she probably would have.

Instead, she sat down on the other sofa and Benning sat next to her. His breath sounded laboured suddenly and his hands shook. It was as though the guilt he felt had reared up to consume him. Anna had seen it before with other detectives who believed they had badly let down victims of crime. One thing they all had in common was that they always found it hard, or in some cases impossible, to forgive themselves.

It took Rossi almost a full minute to regain control of his emotions. As his wife continued to sob into her hands, he wiped his tears with his sleeve and looked at Anna. Red veins laced the whites of his eyes and the lines across his forehead were more pronounced.